Chapter 1

It became clear that Nick took my wives and my desire to vacation as an exclusive group in New York seriously. For two days and two nights none of us saw any of our friends. Weirdly since we knew they took suites in the Sherry Netherland if not next to us, nearby. It’s like they purposely dodged us.

Even with him not there, he guided our agenda.

On the morning of our departure to New York, I awoke amongst a pile of naked bodies nestled behind a young, petite redhead. Tilda’s fingers found my morning wood and guided it into her wet cunt. I thrust forward and she pressed back, and my cock went deep into her tight young pussy in our somewhat awkward sideways position. “Fuck, I love to fuck,” she moaned quietly.

I adjusted things to make things easier, pulling her beneath me and rising behind her. My fingers at the top of her pussy aided the adjustment, and remained there for vigorous rubbing. My other hand found her small, dangling tits and gently milked them, though nothing but pleasure came out.

It could be judged rude that we copulated so early that morning, waking those with us in bed. In fact we attempted to be quiet, but even whispered urging for getting fucked harder has to result, when I complied, in a bed rocked by our efforts, in nudging people awake. But our audience found it anything but rude. They found it inspiring. Fingers masturbated. Consuela hopped on Stan and rode his wood. And the hot blooded Spanish Helen clone and I traded admiring looks at our work at pleasuring our current mate and ourselves, even leaning briefly towards each other for a kiss. I added a brief squeeze of her bouncing boob before returning the hand to my redhead’s, letting Stan be Consuela’s chief nipple squeezer.

And I suppose it could be judged rude that I kept going several minutes after Stan ended his fuck with Consuela with a grunting ejaculation. Proving myself the superior stud. But Consuela had no objections against Stan’s prowess. She had cum loudly before he did after all. Satisfied enough not to claim my relentless cock after Tilda came several times, each more intense than the last. Perhaps she wanted to witness how intense it would get. When it would get to be too much. Which it did.

“Cum in me please,” Tilda moaned after her shivers quieted. “I can’t... !”

When my strokes went from hard and fast into overdrive, and my rubbing and pulling neared hurting her, it silenced her, and stiffened her, and she remained silent and stiff for nearly a minute, until her body undulated beneath me, and mine undulated behind her, and my balls at last released their seed while my cock, pressed as deep as possible, felt the walls of her cunt buzz and ripple around it. Absolutely exquisite.

“Tilda,” I murmured into her ear while I held her lax body. Having pumped out the last of my ejaculate, my nearly flaccid penis slipped out of her sodden pussy, releasing a mix of sexual juices onto the bed. “Tilda?” I repeated.

“Mmm,” she finally responded. Her head turned where it pressed into the bed and I saw her deeply sated smile and her rosy cheek. “Wow, Joe. That was fucking awesome.”

“My pleasure,” I returned as usual, and as usual meaning it.

“We should get up,” she barely murmured. “I need to give you something in my office. Shower with me?”

“Of course.”

She giggled when I lifted her off the bed and carried her to the bathroom. Her unsteady stance when I placed her on her feet showed it might have been necessary. “God, Joe,” she giggled. “You made me as flaccid as your cock.”

“Lean against me if you need to,” I offered, bending down to start the shower.

“Even if I didn’t I would,” she murmured, kissing my shoulder, the closest available flesh, and pressing her leaking pussy against my thigh. “I wish I could love you all the time like that.”

“Your poor little pussy probably couldn’t take it,” I argued, standing upright and embracing the petite and lovely redhead.

“You know what I mean,” she pouted.

“I do know, and if circumstances were different, I’d have liked that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’re a lovely and intelligent woman. I find myself enamored with you despite not knowing you all that well yet. And perhaps it would be a more fair relationship.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. We had entered the shower, and she had begun soaping me. One hand worked my penis while the other caressed my chest.

“I think when I released your libido, to actually experience what you fantasized, it came out a torrent. I don’t see it subsiding all that much. Do you?”

“No,” she admitted quietly, shyly. Her smile when her head lifted her eyes from my slowly swelling penis showed the shyness might not be so real anymore. “Like I said, I love to fuck.”

“My wives let me fuck beauties like you, but refuse any cock but mine inside their pussy, and it seems anywhere else now.”

“Admit it, Joe,” said Tilda. “You’re glad.”

“Yes,” I sighed. “I guess I’m selfish.”

“No. It’s proof of their devotion.”

“I see all the proof I need in their eyes.”

“Maybe. But it completes the proof. For them especially.”

“I guess. Haven’t you had enough of that?” I chuckled, carefully removing her hand from my half-hard cock.

“For now,” she sighed, letting me take over the cleaning, which I thoroughly enjoyed. She had a nice little body, young, yielding. Her sighs and contented smile showed she enjoyed my cleansing caresses as well.

We took our time, enjoying the sensuality of wet naked bodies in such close proximity. But since neither sought the other’s release, it didn’t last all that long.

When we dressed, we enjoyed the tableau of naked tangled bodies resting on the large bed, only Helen awake and smiling with her new sweetness. Tilda pulled me away from the vision.

She brought me to her office. Her mother smiled at me when passing through hers. Obviously she had no problem with her daughter’s sexual awakening. In fact, with the heat of her eyes, she seemed to want something similar.

“Me, Mom and Nick put this together,” said Tilda, handing me a weighty manila envelope. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Sitting at her desk, with her sitting in my lap, I carefully pulled out the contents. Atop an itinerary were smaller pieces of paper. Tickets and passes.

“It’s just a suggestion,” said Rachel, Tilda’s mother, twice her age but just as lovely, with similar features. She could very well have been Tilda’s much older sister. She didn’t look forty.

“Hamilton tickets,” I murmured, amazed. “Is that even possible?”

“As you well know, Nick can be incredibly resourceful.”

“I hope he made it up to his minion,” I said.

“I’m sure he did,” Rachel smiled. “The reservations at the two restaurants are just as difficult to get. The first one you don’t need to even dress up, but the second one you should.”

“That’s fine. My wives and I will enjoy dressing up for a night. But...”

“What?” said Tilda. “Remember, this isn’t required.”

“I wanted to bring them to Luna’s in Little Italy.”

“You can. He left you to your own devices for the middle evening.”

“Cool.” I smiled. I perused the passes to MOMA and the new Whitney Museum and the Guggenheim. “Cool,” I repeated. “I assume Nick is more than just a member to these museums.”

“Yes,” Rachel only replied. Her hand carefully touched mine. “Joe?”

“Hmm?”

“When do you plan leaving?”

“A couple hours,” I shrugged.

“Good,” she smiled. “Come with me.”

“Uhm.”

“My daughter will bring the itinerary to your wives.”

“Okay,” I shrugged, letting Rachel pull me out of the room. She kept her hand in mine, leading me to the apartment building where I currently resided, and to a ground floor apartment. Two bedrooms. She led me to the larger one.

“Rachel?” I asked as she shut the bedroom door and turned to me, and began removing her business suit.

“Hmm?”

“Are you worried your daughter will leave you?”

“Why should I? She loves it here.”

Naked, she revealed heavier and less buoyant breasts and buttocks, and a softer, more rotund tummy. The added voluptuousness contained its own attractiveness.

“You know she doesn’t have the same preferences as you.”

“She likes boys?”

“Yes. Exclusively as it turns out.”

“Oh. I suppose it’s expected. She had to be rebellious in some way.”

“Do you think that’s why?”

Rachel only shrugged before lying on her bed, her legs spread. Her well coifed red bush looked welcoming, so I crawled between her short, thin legs and brought my mouth to it.

“I won’t have her bring men here,” she finally said before moaning. She tasted more mature somehow, richer, more complicated. She also had a surprising abundance of juice. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me by then.

“What about you?” I asked between tongue laps.

“What about me?” she moaned.

“Do you bring someone here?”

“Yes!” she shouted, I assumed for both the pleasure of my sucking her clit and to answer my question. “She got that big Scottish woman her job.”

“She’s a stripper?”

“Used to be. She owns the place.”

“Making money off men’s piggishness,” I chuckled.

“Exactly,” she moaned. No chuckle.

No more conversation, just louder and louder moans and almost a keening noise when I made her cum. Removing my pants and underwear, I moved up over her. “Your shirt too,” she asked.

“I thought...”

“Like Nick, your body and your smell turn me on. Please.”

After removing my shirt, I guided my glans to her readied cunt lips and pushed. She had just as small an opening as her daughter. She must have preferred narrower dildos or slim vibrators.

“Slow,” she ordered.

“I know,” I replied.

She smiled. I leaned down. “Just one,” she said. I gave her what she wanted, a short, soft kiss. She smiled when it ended. “Perfect,” she moaned as I pushed deeper. After glancing down at my gradual penetration, her eyes focused on mine and never left.

“God, you’re deep and thick,” she moaned when I finally fully entered her.

“You okay?”

“I’m perfect,” she smiled.

“That you are,” I said.

She chuckled. “You’re sweeter than him.”

“Is that good?”

“Yes.”

I brought her fingers to her clit before bringing mine to her small, deep red nipples, caressing them as carefully as I fucked her, at least at the beginning.

It became gradual, but I did intensify and quicken my thrusts. She demanded it. She needed it. Her first orgasm had her clutching my ass with her other hand, the one not strumming her clit. The second had her legs doing the clutching. By the third, I pounded into her and she pounded back until she held tight and she keened tightly into my ear. A few quick thrusts and I joined her, filling her with what she needed, a particularly able multitude of spermatozoa.

Only then did she loosen her hold on me. Only then did she pull me into a second kiss, longer and much more loving then the first. It ended after her tongue tapped at mine. She giggled when our lips separated. “Thanks, Joe,” she grinned.

“My pleasure,” I obviously replied. A moment later, slipping out of her and lying back, with her surprising me with her intimacy, lying along my side and caressing my chest, I asked, “A boy or a girl?”

“Hmm? Oh. I don’t care.”

“Perhaps you could indoctrinate the boy against the pigheaded.”

“Perhaps, but he’ll be stuck with that weapon.” She caressed my wet, flaccid penis. “It’s an innately aggressive tool.”

“Needing a compassionate and empathetic guide.”

“Is that you, Joe?”

“I hope so. I never aggressively pursued women. They seemed to pursue me for some reason. And men’s aggressive talk, that objectification, never set well with me. Even if I agreed a woman had a nice ass or tits or whatever, I figured she was much more than that. The few friends I ended up with weren’t the ones I irritated by objecting to their objectifications. The assholes amongst us tended to continue their repugnant attitude towards women by calling me a pussy. I suppose I returned the objectification of sex by thinking of them as dicks.”

We laughed. We kissed. Briefly. She sighed, “Better go.”

“We could do this again,” I offered while getting up and getting dressed.

“You think it took?”

“You’re ovulating?”

“Of course.”

“Then most likely yes.”

“Then no, Joe.”

“Of course.”

Again she surprised me by pulling me into a kiss once I finished dressing. She remained naked, probably intending to shower, and I enjoyed her petite, mature body one more time. “I’m already losing my attraction to you,” she explained afterwards.

I nodded, understanding. Sort of. However microscopic and normally unnoticeable the event may have been, the penetration of egg by spermatozoa, Nick knew, and so, it seemed, did those I impregnated. Rachel knew she no longer needed me.

I had company again for my second shower of the morning, an amused Shira, my usually lesbian black mortal wife. “Rachel, hunh?” she chuckled. “I’d do her.”

“Then do her,” I chuckled back.

“I might,” she smirked.

“And I won’t stop you. But her lover might.”

“Her lover?”

“An ex-stripper who owns the strip club Sheila works at.”

“Then I bet she’s hot too.”

“And tough.”

“Probably. We should meet her when we get back. I’m sure you won’t mind.”

“I love Sheila’s striptease,” I admitted.

“Just Sheila?”

“She’s pretty amazing. And maybe I should remind you I have the hottest wives on the planet, including you.”

“Is that how you’re getting out of that?”

“Yep.”

“Fine.” We kissed. Naked. Wet. Arousingly sexual. Shira grasped the result. “Want this used?” she asked.

“I’m good. You?”

“Yes please.”

She turned and lowered her back, bringing her pink pussy into view. Her hand stretched out beneath it. I gave it my cock and she guided me in. Being a bath and a shower, she could stand on the sides and bring herself to perfect height. It actually had indentations and textured rubber. Yes, Nick, the utterly sexual eternal, knew it would be useful for this very thing. It even had hand holds doubling as washcloth holders on either side of the shower spout, although, with Shira’s supple body, once I entered her, she curved her back and held me behind my neck, pulling me into a kiss. My hand held her at her pussy, fingers pressing on her clit. The other hand worked her luscious breasts. And for some reason, probably her utter hotness which never failed to turn me on, it became a quickie. She came. I came. Despite having cum not long before and several times before that.

“So,” I said afterwards, cleaning what I had just made sticky, “Three gorgeous wives and you’re looking for more?”

“Don’t forget about Salomé,” she reminded me.

“An impossibility,” I chuckled.

“I was teasing,” Shira admitted.

“Really?”

“Maybe not. I don’t know. It’s just...”

“Suddenly reticent?” I asked. Honesty had never been an issue with her or any of my wives. We based the health of our relationship on communication.

“No. Sorry. It’s just weird and a little ironic, considering my wives are mostly older than Rachel. Zhen’s our age, but...”

“Shira?”

“Of course you know that,” she giggled. “Okay. It’s a fantasy. I always wanted to play with an older woman. Like middle aged. Mature but still sexy.”

“A Milf,” I chuckled.

“Yes. Exactly. A popular fantasy lately.”

“Not just lately I don’t think. Especially a young man seeking a skillful guide. Instead of two fumbling, naïve lovers whose first time is all too experimental.”

“For you?”

“Not exactly. Maybe the first time. I mean the first time I ejaculated into a woman. Fortunately my first lover happened to be exceedingly smart even if she had hardly any more experience than me.”

“But she wasn’t a virgin?”

“Nope. A boyfriend proceeded me. Short-lived.”

“Because he failed to consider her pleasure.”

“Yes.”

“And you did?”

“She insisted.”

“Did she?”

“I might have helped when I managed to recover enough to ask her about her disappointed look.”

“That must have removed her disappointed look.”

“Among other things.”

Along with a gentle slug, she laughed. “Always the cocksure asshole.”

“Except when I’m not.”

“True,” she smiled and kissed me deeply.

“Have fun?” asked Helena smugly when we finally emerged from our shower.

“Always,” her mortal wife smiled lovingly.

I shrugged and pulled Helena into a deep kiss. Zhenzhen and Eva followed, not soon, because I took my time kissing each of them.

“Get dressed,” Eva smiled, slapping my naked ass.

“Yes, ma’am,” I bowed slightly.

“Asshole,” she chuckled.

“But I’m your asshole,” I rejoined.

“Our asshole,” Shira said.

“Our asshole,” my other wives agreed, and kissed her like I had kissed them. It was extra sexy because, though she had gotten somewhat dressed, she had yet to cover her amazing, thong panty clad ass. Yum.

“So,” I asked my wives, “what do you make of the itinerary?”

“Nick wants to keep track of us,” Eva answered.

“I agree,” I responded and my other wives nodded. “Still...”

“It sounds great,” said my adorable Chinese wife.

“It does,” said Helena. “And he left tomorrow pretty much to us.”

“Which is good, because I want to take us to Luna.”

“Sounds good,” Eva smiled. The others didn’t respond. “It’s a really nice old Italian restaurant in Little Italy. Nothing fancy or pretentious, but really nice.”

“Good,” said Zhenzhen, “because we can be in the area. I know of an amazing dim sum place in Chinatown.”

“No surprise there,” Eva chuckled and hugged our diminutive wife.

“And our last evening, we’re getting dressed up,” I remarked.

“We know,” Helena smiled. “Which means shopping that day for some hot new gowns.”

“I’ll have to wear my tux,” I shrugged.

“Of course,” Helena replied. “And we’ll need to wear whatever we find on the rack. But we’ll still visit a fabulous haberdasher Father knows and get you some custom clothes.”

“Clothes?”

“Yep. A suit or two. But also shirts and shoes.”

“Is that necessary?” I asked. I hadn’t needed anything fancy since wedding Helena. Visiting the Opera in Paris might have required it, but I had been backstage. An occasional dress shirt and nice slacks had been worn on occasion, but nothing more elegant. No ties for instance.

“I think you will find it necessary,” said Helena. “I think there’ll be more fancy dinners along with fancy cocktail parties. Even serious business meetings. I think you will more and more represent Father.”

“And he cleans up rather nicely,” Eva remarked.

“Yes he does,” Helena grinned.

“I can’t wait,” said Zhenzhen.

“Me neither,” said Shira.

“I could be snarky and say I can,” I grinned, “but I get to see you three clean-up well as well. So I should get my garment bag.”

“Already done, husband,” Helena smirked.

“It seems I hardly ever need to pack for myself these days,” I pouted, remembering our departure from Cass Lake, and a similar task, feigned that time, of impregnating a needy woman while my wives packed my things. “I suppose that means bikini briefs and my speedo. Except we won’t be swimming.”

“You know we like you in boxers,” Helena chuckled. “But you seemed to have missed one of the items.” She grabbed a paper emblazoned with “Manhattan Plaza Health Club” on it.

“Then speedos,” I laughed.

“Goody,” said Zhenzhen cutely.

“Goody for me too,” I waggled my eyebrows.

Zhenzhen blushed and my other gorgeous, sexy wives chuckled.

“Not enough that you see us naked in bed?” Shira commented.

“Nope,” I shrugged.

As it turned out, our morning of swimming on the last day of our vacation ended our time away from the others. And I had absolutely no reason to complain. Seeing so many amazing bodies, of angels of course, but also my lovely mortal friends kept me excited, obvious in my speedos. Embarrassment kept me in the pool. Stan as well. Angels teasing us, caressing us beneath the water, didn’t help matters.

All the minimalist bikinis (only Lindy and Nick’s current older Chinese companion, and Xo’s angels, except Zhenzhen, chose one-pieces, though they still looked amazing) also made clear the several pregnancies. My wives of course, and the Helen clones, revealed slightly convex abdomens. After three months, it remained subtle, just more obvious in the revealed flesh and in comparison to the others.

“All yours?” asked Stan, standing with me in the shallowest part of the pool that still hid our obvious erections.

“Except Tash,” I shrugged. “Nick impregnated her.” Tash wearing a bikini actually surprised me. Black of course, she looked incredible in it with her long lean body. After swimming, it didn’t surprise me that Naomi swathed her in sunblock, with a high SPF count I imagined.

Stan, with his muscled v-shaped torso, an Adonis of the Lakota, and I, with my most normal flesh, at least somewhat tanned from our summer at the lake, sought bravery against embarrassment. An unspoken agreement, just a nod, and we emerged from the pool. The ladies applauded, as did Vance, whose eyes consumed Stan. That brought a punch on his shoulder from his Lakota lover, but I doubt he was any less guilty of studying the man. Every lady at the pool studied him, as did some men. It helped lessen my embarrassment, although I actually got over it. After all, every tight fitting speedo, and even loose trunks at the pool sported proof of excitement. Only a completely asexual man could not respond to the incredible abundance of pulchritude on near naked display.

I sat with my wives, and beside a surprising guest. Maria, my beautiful blonde Dutch bisexual lover, had decided to visit. Earlier, after she giggled at my stunned reaction to seeing her, with me still in the pool, and embraced me and kissed me thoroughly, she whispered, “I’ll explain later.” Sitting beside her, “later” arrived.

“You texted about staying at the Sherry Nederland.”

“It reminded me of you,” I shrugged.

“I’m glad it did. It also provided me a place to pounce.”

“So this was a trap all along,” I chuckled. “How did you know... ?”

“Christa has Helena’s number.”

“Of course.” Christa, Maria’s middle aged lover in a threesome with Christian, being completely enamored by my first wife, probably had her on speed dial, or whatever it’s called these days.

“Helena gave me Tilda’s number, and Tilda kept me in the loop.”

“Helena explained our need to be left alone?”

“Of course. That’s why I arrived yesterday. Shira’s delicious, by the way. Helena invited me in your bed tonight. If it’s okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay. But what about Christian?”

“Christian’s not a problem. He knows I’ll return to him. He’s completely in love with with me. He knows you’re his only competition and my love for you can only be physically satisfied all too occasionally. Christa on the other hand was a bitch about it.”

“She’s just envious,” said Helena.

“I agree,” Maria frowned. “But it makes it harder to love her. She can be so selfish and jealous, even if we all know where her true love lies.”

We nodded, remembering her soulmate living in Madison, Wisconsin.

“How’s our son?” I asked her, rubbing her taut, subtly convex tummy.

“Hardly any trouble at all,” she smiled, “for now. And whenever he makes himself known, it just reminds me he’s a piece of you inside me.”

“Maria?”

“I love you Joe. Deal with it. I do. I’m okay. I have a loving relationship with two people. Even Christa is a wonderful lover most of the time. There may be levels of it, with Christian practically worshipping me, and my love for him secondary to my love for you, and Christa probably tertiary in her feelings for me and especially for Christian, but when we’re together, we’re together. Understand?”

“I do, actually,” I smiled.

“Good, because I can’t afford this very often, and I want it to be just you and me.”

“Maria.”

Maria chuckled. “I’m referring to my side of things, not yours.”

“How long can you stay?”

Her grin expanded on her lovely face. “I like that choice of words. Not ‘when do you leave?’”

“I like that you’re here.”

“Me too. Except I would say ‘love’.”

“Me too.”

That had her beaming.

“So, how long?” I reiterated.

“Through the weekend. I’m leaving out of Boston.”

“Cool,” I replied.

“Very cool,” she agreed.

Sitting in lawn chairs made it awkward to kiss, which was why we hadn’t kissed several times, waiting for us to begin to actually leave the rooftop pool before we embraced and kissed each other thoroughly.

“You’re coming with us,” Helena told her when the kiss ended.

“Where?” Maria asked.

“Shopping for fancy dresses for our dinner tonight.”

“And sexy,” Eva added.

“And a visit to a haberdasher,” I shrugged.

Maria’s excitement turned to confusion. “You expect a tailored suit by tonight?”

“He has his tux he wore at our marriage,” Helena explained. “It’s the only really fancy duds he owns.”

“And you’ll be dripping when you see him in it,” Eva added.

Maria giggled and nodded. “I understand.”

Must be a woman thing. I still didn’t get why I needed anything fancy beyond what I already had.

A Buzz clone dropped us off a few blocks east on Madison Avenue. He and his limousine had been our means of travel from the beginning. I never knew why Snake had so many drivers who looked so similar to each other, despite ethnic and race differences. But being big and bright and aware had a lot to do with it. Bodyguard had everything to do with their job description.

We went shopping. Mind numbing shopping. At least every time my amazing looking wives and Maria entered a larger store or a small boutique, the salespeople practically bowed attending to them. Of course they looked exquisite and sexy in everything they tried, so it never was all that bad.

Everything cost too much in my humble opinion, but our last stop as far as my ladies seemed the most extreme. Accessories. Especially purses. Some cost as much or more than the dresses they finally found. For a relatively small piece of designed leather. It made my head spin.

My angels had no problem with the excessive expense. Even Zhenzhen, who I thought grew up in a modest mindset enjoyed it and ignored every price tag. The mortals struggled with it. Helena insisted her father could afford anything. Being eternal with millions of minions combined to make him immeasurably wealthy. But I think the clothing seduced them. Both preferring their own sex, or in Maria’s case, equally attracted to men and women, seeing the angels in incredibly sexy and elegant outfits removed any resistance. They didn’t bat their eyes at the excessively priced purses.

After a wonderful and overabundant late lunch at the Carnegie Deli (fortunately we had a late reservation at the fancy restaurant) we headed east to a small and deceptively modest haberdashery. Three generations ran it. The oldest looked to be in his eighties. His son was middle aged. The grandson couldn’t have been any older than me. Their similar looks, Eastern European Jewish, told of resistance to gentile wives. The two ladies there seemed to confirm it. The one sitting behind an old fashioned cash register had to be the old man’s wife. A combination of affection and teasing between the elder generation couple confirmed it to me. And a young woman sat beside her fitting the ethnic mold. A stronger affection and no teasing towards the young man suggested newlyweds, and a following of tradition, with the young wife taking over the business side of things from her grandmother-in-law.

I loved the place immediately, no less because I got treated seriously without fawning. They even cracked jokes at my expense, especially the old man. He couldn’t forgive my father marrying a gentile, let alone my lack of being bar mitzvahed and my general lack of faith. But he actually could, of course. He had a sparkle in his eyes that revealed his teasing. I loved the irreverent attitude towards customers of the old Manhattan, which we had also enjoyed at the Deli, and mourned its passing art.

The youngest, probably still considered interning, did the several measurements of my body. His father recorded them. Grandfather walked around with Helena and Eva, showing the fabrics. Maria wandered on her own oohing and awing at other fabrics, sometimes bringing my wives and the old man to view her suggestions. Zhenzhen and Shira sat together watching the measuring, amusement never leaving their faces. Sometimes Maria brought a swatch to them. Of all of us, she seemed to enjoy this most.

Towards the end of the measuring, a small older man entered the store bearing shoe samples and one of those metal measuring tools for feet. The three samples encompassed three styles and three colors: brown, black and oxblood red. Tasseled slip-ons, plain oxfords and some fancier lace-ups with leatherwork around the lace holes. Actually it sort of encompassed more styles, with either pointy or rounded toes.